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Bound

My mom use to read to me about you in my bedtime stories, monsters that lay in the deepest corners of the world. Skin blazing crimson, nails razor sharp, soulless cold eyes on a beast so deadly your eyes would ignite with one glimpse. I was told you live in the writings and drawings of fiction and fantasy, but I cant afford to lie to myself anymore, although present life has become one big masquerade. For some people life is big ball full of hidden faces spinning and twirling but never showing the surface, until one singular day it does and life is never the same again.

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